Other People's Chickens
by divalicious2
Summary: What really turned Charlotte into a drug addict is not what you think. New Chap: Naomi and Charlotte arrange a sex-ed lecture at a local California middle school, but things don't turn out the way Naomi anticipated. Naomi POV. Don't forget to REVIEW!
1. Chapter 1

I've had this in my head since season 1 wrote most of it in season 2 before much was known about Charlotte.

_Charlotte glared at her reflection._

_She hated Landry. Hated his hands. Just hated him._

_Mother floated in. Charlotte was surprised. Her mother was almost always still sleeping when she left for school. For her to be up when Charlotte was getting ready? It was unheard of._

_The nanny was conspicuously absent that morning._

_Mama grabbed her chin and turned Charlotte to face her. The light from the window fell across her face._

_"You cannot go to school looking like that!" She chastised. "It certainly doesn't look lady-like," she added._

_In another moment Mama had her makeup out, and was covering Charlotte's darkly bruised cheek with the precision of a makeup artist._

_When finished, Mama smiled with flashing white teeth. Smiling in pride that she'd been able to help her daughter. And that she'd done such a good job of hiding the shiner her son had inflicted._

_"Boys have a temper, Charlotte Marie," she'd warned her that night. "Don't get Landry upset. You leave him alone, he'll leave you alone."_

Charlotte woke up with a start, the words of the dream still ringing in her ears.

"Yeah right," she answered, glaring hard into the darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

Charlotte sat on the couch staring at the now empty bottle of vodka in front of her. It felt like she'd had too much.

She looked to the door the guy had walked out of. She'd locked it right behind him. It wasn't like it mattered or anything. Five seconds after he spoke it, she'd already forgotten his name. When they were done, she sent him packing.

She sighed hard, feeling weighed down by everything, trying and failing to pretend like she didn't care. That what she was pretending to feel was what she really felt- nothing. Nothing would be a hellofalot nicer than what she did feel.

"It's a hellofalot smarter than what other people do," she told the nothingness aloud. The empty things she'd bought to fill up the empty house that might someday fill up the empty in her.

"At least I'm not likely to catch a disease or have to worry about some a-hole breakin' my heart."

Hell, truthfully Charlotte King was doing a lot better in the "relationship" department than she had before. The solution before had been no men, period. Saved a lot of heartache. Of course, it helped that no man wanted her. No guy from med school had ever asked her out. No one at the hospital either.

_Jerks. Don't know a good thing when it's right in front of them. _

But this...this was almost worse. Instead of having nothing, she had something she couldn't keep. Something that wasn't real. If she ever wanted more from any of these guys, she couldn't have it. They couldn't handle her.

"Morons," she grumbled. "Don't know a good thing when they see it. If they'd bother to look, she added grudginly.

_Find someone to love you,_ her mother's words echoed from their last phone conversation. _Come home git married n' settle down, honey. _

How could she be expected to find someone to love her? If people couldn't see past her focused and strong attitude, if all they believed was that she was a bitch here in LA, how would she ever be able to find a decent man down in Alabama, where men were well versed in not wanting a strong woman.

Again, Charlotte sighed heavily, without realizing it.

"I can't even find a person that likes me, let alone could love me."

It was sad. It was the truth.

I left Alamaba to get away from my past, she reminded herself. Cuz I figured my future anywhere else couldn't be near as bad as my present. I'm alone, she concluded, but at least I'm safe.

Don't wake up in a panic anymore, she praised herself. She was getting better. Getting away had helped.

"I'm better off without other people around me anyway," she told the livingroom. She had a friend. One friend. Well, more like acquaintance really. Possibly the only girl in LA that could tolerate her, wasn't intimiadated by her at least. Sometimes Charlotte would call her. When she was desperate with lonliness, dying to talk to someone who wasn't worried about her being their competition or superior.

"If people can't take me at my worst, they sure as hell don't get to see my good side." And she had one. More than one actually. If people just knew what she was really like. When she wasn't on the clock...

Who was she kidding? God, she hated being alone. Alone by choice was fine, but alone because no one wanted you?

_Hell, getting' beat was better than this. At least people saw me, weren't afraid of me. At least it was attention._

Charlotte King had everything she wanted now, or at least everything money could buy- except of course for the things she really wanted and needed.

She sighed again.

_What's the point of being the best, getting up the ladder if-_

She shook her head at the painful thought, then grabbed the bottle for another swig.

It was empty.

"Damn it!" She swore, feeling stupid, throwing the bottle hard down to the floor, watching it without regret as it shattered and smashed to thick frosted pieces.

Recklessly, she grabbed for the baseball bat she kept behind the couch. The guys she had over were safe, but you never knew. Something Charlotte King was not was stupid.

Overcome by a sudden wave of stronger than usual self-loathing she shreiked, screaming in fury. It was unfair. And the injustice of it all pissed her off- bad. With the bat in her hands it felt better. Not caring, and knowing she now made enough money to replace everything she broke, Charlotte King flew the bat through the air with a will, wildly.

Shrieking and screaming she swung the bat at everything she could possibly break.

"I hate living like this!" She screamed aloud to the empty house.

Bam! Went the bat colliding with a clay pot. The pot flew across the room, breaking up in mid-air.

The swinging weight did nothing to ease her fury. Seething, and with a grunt of effort she swung the bat at a picture frame.

Then faster and faster. Swinging, hitting sometimes, and swinging again screaming her shrieks of wordless rage until sweat ran down her body and her throat burned for rest.

Anger was easy. Anger was safe. But too far in the other direction? Hell, that's what the booze was for.

Tired finally, Charlotte let the sweat slippery bat be heaved back behind her for one last blow, aiming to get the china vase some random not-lover had given her.

Instead of hitting it's intended target, the bat slipped from Charlotte's hands while she was still winding it backward, the momentum and the sweat sent it flying out of her hands.

This was unintentional. Oh shit, was all she had time to think.

Quickly Charlotte turned around mouth open realizing it's new tragectory.

The bat slammed into her front window, slicing through the glass like butter. The glass sounded like an explosion. But, the barrier didn't slow the bat down much, it continued to fly through the air over her yard until it landed with hollow clattering rhythm on the cement.

"Shit," Charlotte cursed. She sighed again.

_That was not something I was planning on fixing._

Turning away she sank down onto her couch once again.

Shards of glass, porceline, wood and some couch stuffing lay around her as if a small tornado had hit the room.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hey, King!"

The voice, the strong hand encasing her upper arm. That's what had started it.

In the reality of the real world, it was Kennedy, his way of beginning to acknowledge that Charlotte had performed emergency surgery, without her resident or an attending, or any "real" doctor present. His way of expressing "atta girl!". Not only had the patient lived to tell the tale-well, all he knew was that he'd had surgery and lived, not that he'd been operated upon by a baby-faced inexperienced intern. And, she hadn't been kicked out of the program.

Charlotte saw it as a plus. There were reasons she didn't act like the other cry-baby interns. She acted like a doctor. Confident as hell, even when she had no idea what she was doing. So when her patient woke up and she told him that it wasn't gas but a nearly ruptured appendix, he thanked his lucky stars and went back to sleep. He didn't say, "I'm going to sue you and get your ass kicked out of this hospital!" No. He was smart.

He was grateful.

Her resident, Dr. Emmerson, on the other hand was not feeling so felicitious. He'd gone to check the damage, then reemed her.

With confidence she'd asked, "Did I perform the operation incorrectly?"

No, she had not. But, as she knew well from being raised in Alabama, folks didn't take well to being 'snuck up from under'. She'd broken rules. True, the time it'd taken to follow the rules the man would have gone septic and suffered more damage or died. But since she didn't, he'd live a long life. Did that matter worth a damn?

No, it did not.

To her co-horts though? Once word got around, and boy did it ever, they treated her like a celebrity, for approximately five seconds. An eternity in Intern Time.

She wasn't stupid though, she saw through their semi-excitement. It was the fact that she'd broken hospital rules and gotten away with it that excited them. But, she was their competition. They weren't going to get too excited about it, or at least, not too sincere about it. All the boys were friends, but not really. Charlotte was just glad there weren't any girls in her group. Girls were catty to begin with. Throw them into a real cut-throat competitive environment where your livelyhood and future is on the line? Ha! They'd probably slit Charlotte's throat in her sleep if they could. The boys were her competition, though even half excited, or half sincere, they'd be more sincere anyday than a peer of Charlotte's sex and gender.

Kennedy'd been the last to hear, so he'd rushed up behind her- once making certain that Emmerson wasn't on the scene, grabbed her arm to turn her around for a congratulatory high-five. He often did this. Charlotte thought of him much as a child she had to baby-sit. But, he was harmless. She felt sorry for him though, poor thing didn't even realize he'd never make it to the end of internship.

So, that's what was happening in the real world.

But in Charlotte's fucked-up world? This is what happened, which sadly, also became part of the real world. It was always when her crazy opened up that things got ugly.

She didn't scare easy. Never had. Yet she'd screamed, screamed at Kennedly the Kid's unexpected assault. Crazy, right?

Sad as it was, she knew it was Kennedy. She knew it. Yet, that didn't seem to matter. She in her head that this boy was no threat. That didn't matter either. Because in Charlotte King's fucked up world, her own brain apparently, thought she was going to get her ass kicked.

So, Charlotte screamed. And, certain not to be someone's victim and helpless as she had been, now she fought back.

She'd spun around, and with strength she didn't know she had managed to knock Kennedy cold to the floor.

Either she'd mis-judged her level of fear, confused Kennedy's voice with Landry's, underestimated her own strength, or possibly all of the above.

Either way, poor hapless Kennedy ended up with a concussion, a broken nose, and a real sore attitude as far as Charlotte was concerned.

He wasn't the only one. The Interns and even the Residents tiptoed lightly around her.

To say Charlotte was humiliated by her error was an understatement. This was worse than doing unassisted surgery. Even though it hadn't exactly been her fault none of the residents or other interns even had shown up when paged.

She'd just barely been able to talk her way out of needing to see the staff councelor. Another episode like this though, she'd been warned, and it would be mandatory. After all, you couldn't have someone with mental health issues working in a hospital environment, especially if they couldn't handle the stress of a high-five.

"That was a long time ago," she hissed to her reflection in the mirror, determined to shame or scare her brain into submission once again. To get it and her body to behave and respond appropriately. Not like a nut job.

"No one's gonna hurt you. They're not here," she emphasized.

"Stop freaking out when people touch you," she reminded her body. "Stop freaking out when people call your name," she looked at both her ears and her head.

"Stop goin' god-damn ballistic for no reason. Stop hyperventilating and shaking. I thought we had an agreement. You and me we been doin' fine since school," she reminded it. "But somehow after school and moving out you forgot yourself. Now that's insane. Now you're safe, now you're free. Now no one's gonna touch you unless you want them to, and you can call the cops if you want. But no. Now when you're safe is when you decide to freak to high heaven, embarrass me all to hell, and almost cost me my job. You think they let nut-jobs be real doctors? No," she told herself, "they turn into shrinks."

"Where do you think they get shrinks, huh?" She continued.

"You wanna be a wack-job doctor listening to people snivel and whine and cry all day? You came out here to be a real doctor," Charlotte reminded her brain.

There was a sound outside the bathroom door. Immediately Charlotte froze. As expected, the bathroom door opened. Charlotte relaxed slightly when she realized it was just some old lady. She was grateful it wasn't one of the other doctors, one of the few women on that floor. If they'd heard her just now, they'd be sure to send her to a shrink.

Not wanting to test fate again that day, she simply washed her hands and got the hell out of there, before she went more crazy in public.

Thank god she had a day off the next day. Charlotte got back to her apartment and drank until she passed out.

As she was falling asleep by the toilet, Charlotte glanced lovingly at the bottle of wine that'd got her there. It was cheap.

"Can't wait till I can write my own damn scrips," she grumbled, somewhat incoherently.

She'd run out of valium, and oxy and out of excuses. Her only hope now to get new meds was to switch doctors. She wasn't desperate enough to buy from dealers. God only knew what was in their stuff. All she could write now without completely breaking the law was pretty much just damn aleve.


	4. Chapter 4

(PS this story is NOT all about Charlotte King.)

"Uh, Maya's mom?"

Surprised and confused, Naomi stopped walking. The tone and the phrasing told her already that a young girl was seeking her attention, and that if this person knew her as "Maya's mom" then likely she would know who was calling her.

Feeling happy, perhaps just because she knew it wasn't a patient calling, and it was the end of the day, Naomi Bennett turned around quickly, both curious and hopeful.

When she recognized who she was seeing she gave a gasp and a squeal, immediately holding her arms out for a hug.

"Michelle, baby! Ooh, come give your Auntie Nae a big hug! I haven't seen you in ages!" She gushed, not noticing that the skinny tow-headed girl wasn't running for the hug, but walking hesitantly.

The Turners Naomi and Michelle's mother, Madeline had been the Bennett's 'next door friends' since she and Sam moved to the neighborhood. Longing to be a mother, but resigned to wait for "the time of God's choosing" Naomi remembered just then how elated Madeline had been to learn she was pregnant. Maya was five when Michelle was born, and was almost as excited about the baby as Madeline herself. She and Maya practically lived with Madeline and Michelle (with Sam and Matt Turner 'living' at the Bennett's). Naomi'd been crushed when Madeline broke the news that Matt's job had relocated them. Only about a half hour away, but it was enough. The last time Naomi remembered seeing Michelle, she'd been missing both her front teeth.

Naomi hadn't seen Michelle or her mother in about five years. Though even before the move, Naomi saw less of Michelle the older Maya got, naturally she still recognized her.. Naomi remembered when Maya realized that Michelle was "just a baby" compared to her, and stopped going over to play. This of course upset Michelle very much. She didn't understand why she suddenly wasn't a good enough friend to play with Maya. Michelle had had other friends to play with, but heart-aching, Naomi had often seen the girl looking over the fence more than once, when Maya had a new older friend over to play.

She and Madeline were still friends of course, but when your child doesn't want to play with your friend's child things become awkward.

"Hi sweetie," she smiled again, squishing the girl in her embrace. "Look at you! The last time I saw you, you were up to here," she put a hand to her waist.

"What are you doing all the way out here? Where's your mom?"

Michelle looked at the floor.

It hit her suddenly that something was terribly wrong.

Naomi wasn't sure if the child was about to cry, or vomit.

Her heart jumped into her throat as her mind said "What if Mad's dead?"

"Is your mom still around? And your dad? Is everyone doing okay?"

Wordlessly, Michelle nodded.

"Then, honey, what's wrong?"

"Mom doesn't know I'm here," she whispered.

All of a sudden Naomi's mom alarms were going off like crazy. She shut her eyes.

_Please don't be pregnant! Please dear God don't let this child be pregnant._

Naomi put an arm around Michelle's shoulders, and realized that she, not Michelle, was shaking with fear.

She took a deep breath, forced her fear down and asked her, "Do you want to talk? We can go up to my office, if you want."

Michelle nodded, still not looking at her.

"It's been a long time since I've seen you," she made mindless small talk as she steered Michelle towards the elevator. "How old are you now?"

"I'll be tweleve in a couple of months," she whispered.

The distant tone made Naomi's stomach clench.

_Please God, don't let this girl be pregnant._

Naomi nodded then, remembering the exact age difference between she and Maya. "Oh, that's right," she grinned at her, faking happy now, as worried as she was that this baby was following in her old friend's footsteps. "Maya's about to be sixteen."

Michelle's eyes said, "Duh", and Nae could just hear her saying in her head, "I know how old my best friend is". She knew Michelle would still think that way. She used to. But Michelle's mouth said, "How is Maya?" as they stepped into the elevator.

Naomi let out a long sigh, then plastered on a smile. "She's had some difficult times," she answered, feeling her teeth grit with the words she held back, "but she's doing well."

Michelle nodded, and under her arm, Naomi felt the girl's shoulders tighten in stress.

"That's good," her voice still distant. Scared.

Naomi closed her eyes as the elevator rose. Please, please, please,she prayed.

When they entered Naomi's office, and Naomi offered the ever ready chocolate and was refused, Naomi knew something was horribly wrong.

They sat in silence for a while before Michelle quietly began talking to the floor beneath her feet.

"I remembered that you're a doctor, and well I can't tallk to my mom, and if I talked to the councelor at school I'd get in trouble, so..."

"I'm glad you came to me," she lied. "Everyone needs an adult they can talk to."

"Dr. Bennett's a doctor too, I know," Michelle was speaking faster with each word. "It's just that I don't know him that well, and I don't know if he'd know what I was talking about."

She nodded. It was true. Michelle and Sam had almost never been in the same room together, unless it was Maya's birthday. The Turners had moved away when Michelle was nine. It had been a while, probably decades in 'child time'.

"Michelle, sweetie," Naomi sat down next to her, "what is it that you came to talk to me about? What's wrong honey? I promise you I'll do everything I can to help.?"

Michelle licked her lips and swallowed.

"Well," her voice was shaky, "it's just about some stuff I don't know." The statement sounded like a question.

"Uh huh," Naomi encouraged her.

Well, this magazine I read said I'm supposed to ask my dentist about this, but that just doesn't make sense to me."

Michelle stopped talking and began to squirm in her seat.

Naomi stayed silent, knowing it would be the easiest way to get the kid to crack.

"Well," the word came out as a squeak and was dragged out as if she were falling down one.

Michelle cleared her throat, whether as a stall tactic, or not Naomi wasn't sure. "Um," she faltered, "well, I think I need to get something called a dental dam."

She looked up at Naomi quickly, concerned. " Do you know what that is?"

Her eyebrows were question marks, and Naomi could see that Michelle was now considering that Naomi Bennett, the doctor, wife and mother might not know as much about sex as she did.


	5. Chapter 5

Michelle took Naomi's silence for confusion and continued, explaining.

"The magazine said you're supposed to see your dentist for a proper fit, but I don't see what dental work has to do with sex."

Naomi's mouth dropped open at the term dental dam, and stayed open.

_Oh my god._

Now it was Naomi's turn to be uncomfortable.

With effort she managed to close her mouth. She swallowed, stammered, then decided to just let whatever was in her brain come out in a professional doctor manner. That way, she wouldn't kill this child.

"You've said some very good, very smart things there, Michelle. You realize that oral sex is still a form of sex. That's good, a lot of older girls think it has nothing to do with sex. And you're clearly informing yourself about different forms of protection, that's very good, Michelle."

Naomi realized that she was shaking, along with her voice. She couldn't help it. All she could feel was panic. Sheer panic.

"How old are you again?"

"Eleven."

"Can I ask you what made you think about all this?"

"The kids at school. Everyone does it."

Naomi closed her eyes and slowly exhaled, reminding herself to breathe. Just focus on breathing. Do not freak out. Just breathe.

"I mean, I think it's stupid," Michelle was continuing on, but to Naomi her voice sounded far away. "But now I'm like a total loser because I don't even have a boyfriend. Which I think is stupid too. I mean, the girls that have boyfriends, they are "a couple" for maybe three days, then they break up and go with some other boy."

"And," Naomi was afraid to ask, "what do the girls and boys do with each other? Make out?"

Michelle shrugged. "Something like that."

Naomi sat up straighter, her panic at a child speaking of adult matters turning to true concern.

"Michelle, I need you to be more specific. I can't help you if I don't have all the information."

"Well, everyone does it. They all do."

"Does what? Do you mean sex?"

"Yeah, and that other stuff. I think it's gross."

She leaned closer to Michelle, her body feeling tense as if ready to fight.

"What's gross?"

She squirmed. "You know," she answered clearly embarrased.

"No, no, I don't think I do."

"You know," Michelle squirmed again and looked away, "that thing boys like."

"Boys like a lot of things."

Michelle's eyes widened horrified. "Oh great, now there's more stuff I have to know about?!"

Naomi felt pained for her. "No, no sweetie," she assured her. If what she thought was happening in that school was happening, there was a serious public health problem on the rise.

"Michelle, sweetie, just tell me what you meant. What "other things" do the boys and girls do at your school besides kiss?"

"Usually they make out all the time. They used to make out in the bathrooms, but the teachers caught on and now there's always someone watching the bathrooms."

"But when adults aren't around, they do...other things."

"What other things?"

"I don't know if I can tell you."

"You can talk to me, Michelle."

"You'll tell my mom," she insisted, "you'll get me in trouble."

"I promise you I will not tell your mother. Michelle, I need to know. What other things do the kids do?"

"Well, that's why I wanted to ask you about getting a dental dam. Because that's what the girls do," she added, "for the boys. Only, the magazine said you're supposed to use a dental dam, but I know the girls don't. Probably because you have to go somewhere besides Walgreens to get one, and they don't have the money or just don't want to get in trouble."

"What do the girls do?"

"You know, that nasty stuff. It's disgusting. I don't see why anyone would want to-"

"Are you talking about oral sex?" Saying the words to Michelle made Naomi want to vomit. "When a boy puts his penis in a girl's mouth?"

Michelle made a face as if she were seeing something horrible. Naomi was happy to note it was the response that a girl her age should have to sexual matters. "It's disgusting."

"Is that what the girls and boys at your school do?"

She nodded. "When they're not having sex. Some of the girls won't have sex because they don't want to get pregnant, but the boys expect something or they'll break up with you. And oral sex isn't that bad I guess. At least, you can't get pregnant from it."

Naomi felt as if she were falling down a dark hole, with nothing solid underneath to catch her.

"Do the boys and girls use condoms?"

"For that kind of sex? No."

_Oh no._

"They don't have to worry about getting the girl pregnant. And it, "defeats the purpose". The boys don't like to wear condoms anyway."

"It's not like it's that hard to do, probably, but I still think it's disgusting."

"So, you don't want to have oral sex with the boys?"

She wrinkled her nose. "No."

"But you came to me to ask about getting a dental dam, which is something that every girl should use if she's planning on oral sex."

"I don't even want to go out with boys," she admitted. "But I'm a total prude if I don't, so I figure I might as well prepare for the inevitable."

"Michelle, you're eleven years old. That is way too young to be thinking about sex, any kind of sex. In my opinion it's too young to even be dating."

"What's that?"

She laughed. "You know, dating, when a boy and girl go to the movies together or get pizza, hang out and get to know each other."

"And then they have sex?" Michelle asked.

"No," Naomi winced. "Then they go to their separate homes."

"No sex?"

"No sex."

Michelle blinked. "What's the point then?" I don't know anyone who does that. If you go with a boy some kind of sex, or at the very least sucking face is promised to happen."

Naomi was confused. "You said all the girls and boys in your class are going out."

"Yeah, they go places and make out or have sex with each other."

"Is that all they do together?"

"What else would they do? What's the point of going out with someone if you don't plan on having sex? Or at least making out?"

"And," she continued, "If you're going to have sex, or go down on him, or suck face, you might as well do it and get it over with. So what was supposed to happen at the end of your time together, is just what happens as soon as you get together alone, and then when you've done it, there's no point in staying. You did what you came to do, so then you leave."

Naomi had to look away. _Get ahold of yourself. This child clearly does not know any better. My god, what the heck has Madeline been teaching her?_ She shook her head. Nothing, probably.

"I had no idea so many students in your class would be sexually active."

She shrugged.

"And just who are the girls in your class going out with? You mentioned that they seem to switch boyfriends every week or so."

"Well it started out with them going out with kids in our grade. But now most of the girls go out with boys in 8th grade or 7th grade. They ran out of sixth grade boys."

"What about the boys in your class?"

"I guess I get to take my pick," she answered ruefully, with no joy in that fact. "No one else is dating them."

"Michelle, I'm concerned for you, and for the other children at your school. If these children are having unprotected sex- and oral sex without a condom or other protection, the kids at your school are in serious danger of contracting and easily spreading sexually transmitted diseases."

"Oh, most of the girls already have those, or have had them," she answered quickly as if Naomi had just said something beyond obvious.

"But if you have an STD and so does the boy you're sleeping with, what's the big deal? It's like being around someone that has the flu, when you already have the flu yourself. It's not like you can get it twice."

"Michelle, do you know the names of any of the sexually transmitted diseases these children claim to have?"

"Ghonorreah. Or the clap, usually."

Naomi was horrified.

"Thank you for telling me this," she breathed trying to get control of her emotions.

"Michelle I think you're very smart to not want to go out with anyone right now. You don't have to go out with any of these boys if you don't want to, and it honestly doesn't seem like you do."

'I don't," Michelle agreed. "But I don't want to be a loser for all the rest of sixth grade. And, I want to be prepared."

"More than I can say for those other poor children," Naomi whispered. What she said for Michelle's ears was,

"that's very smart. But you usually don't want to stock up on supplies until you're ready. And until you understand all the risks that being in a sexual relationship entails, you're not ready for it. And There's no law that says you have to go out. There should be much more important things in your life right now, such as your education, and your friends."

"The few losers like me who aren't spending their time with boys?"

Naomi let out a breath. This conversation needed to be a lot longer.

"Michelle, would you like me to give you a ride home? I'd like to talk to you some more about this, but I'd like some time to think over the things you've told me. Would that be okay?"

"I guess so."

"Good," she smiled. "Wait here for a minute, I'll be right back."

Quickening her steps she made for the stairs and walked up to Charlotte King's office.

Without bothering to knock like a polite person, Naomi pushed the door open, finding Charlotte King's eyes across the room.

"Charlotte, we need to talk."


	6. Chapter 6

"Leave the practice," she scoffed in a mocking tone.

"Bull shit!" She answered his demand in her normal voice.

Unfortunately Cooper wasn't there.

"All the childish, immature, inane, selfish, inconsiderate, insecure, ass-stupid, retarded, mean, weak, sissy shit to say," she glared at the door, closed in front of her.

"Being with people is stupid."

"I knew!" She chastised herself. "I knew! I knew better." she added. "I knew better than to actually get involved with someone. Be so stupid, convince myself I was in love with somone," she spat out.

"Love," she laughed, "biggest sack of bullshit ever."

"No such thing," she added bitterly. "Only people you hate, people you hate less, people you can't stand, and people you can sometimes tolerate. No love about it."

She would have continued to grumble to herself in the darkened office, when the door suddenly opened. She was ready to kill when she thought it was Cooper, so it was such a relief to see it wasn't, it was Naomi Bennet, she was almost happy to see the woman.

"Charlotte, I need your help," the woman said, halfway between the office entry and the hall.

Then, seeing CHarlotte wasn't busy, Naomi opened the door all the way and stepped inside.

"We have a serious health crisis going on at one of the local schools. An outbreak of ghonorrhea and clamedia, at best."

All business, Charlotte King rose from her chair, ready to command and take action.

"I'll go shut it down."

Naomi laughed. "That'll leave the kids with more time on their hands. That's the problem."

"I see," she nodded sagely, trying to pretend she hadn't just said something stupid. "I'll be contacting the local health authorities, and going over to speak with the principal. We can't force the kids to undergo testing, but after scaring the shit out of them in the presentation I'm already planning, I don't think testing will be a problem."

"Good," Naomi smiled. "But they need more than that. They need someone to talk to them about what a relationship really is. It isn't just sex. These girls feel obligated to comply sexually, not on the first date, but from the first moment they're alone. There is no relationship. It's just sex, then sex with a different boy the next week."

Talk to kids about relationships? I'm all for that. I'll tell them how ass-stupid they are.

"How old are these kids? High School?"

"About eleven or twelve."

"Shit," Charlotte muttered. Not shocked at all by the low age, but by the fact that she'd now have to talk nice to them, the way Violet Turner spoke to her patients. Like they were babies would could explode at the first sign of reality.

Before leaving the room, Naomi flipped on the light switch.

"What were you doing sitting in the dark?" She was laughing.

Pouting about being stupid enough to date Cooper.

"Nothing," she answered.

Review Time! Due to the low amount of reviews in general, I'm partnering with other authors to remind you, the reader that if you've taken the time to read a story, or a chapter, you need to review it. To not review, no matter what excuse you can come up with is RUDE.

"Authors depend upon their reviewers to give them feedback, insight, inspiration, as well as encouragement. It's a pretty lonely world when you put your effort into a story or a chapter and the reviews don't match up with the number of readers you have. Don't forget authors can tell how many people are reading their stories. The lack of reviews from the FFN community at large has caused a lot of writers to take their stories elsewhere. Being able to ready stories on FFN is a privilege. If you want to continue to have stories to read, you need to review. It's a two-way street."


	7. Chapter 7

Naomi's jaw dropped. She hadn't expected this.

She'd accompanied Charlotte King to the middle school, where Dr. Charlotte King had been welcomed with open arms to speak to the entire school (staff included) about the STD epidemic. It'd taken over a week to get the okay, but with Naomi's neighbor kid Michelle helping to convince some of the girls to get free tests (Charlotte had suggested the incentive of free grease laden dinner) at the hospital, it was clear that yes there was a near epidemic of STDs of a very varied nature. One of the girls was found to be HIV positive, with the others having contracted less damaging variations such as chlamedia and ghonnoreah.

With the girls, names and easily calculable statistics in hand, it had been fairly simple for Charlotte King to get the school and the school board to agree to an informative meeting, followed by testing at the school that day, or at Oceanside. Initially the school was concerned about bad press, and clearly more concerned about the bad press and bad image their middle schoolers were projecting than for the middle school students themselves. It was Charlotte too who suggested the same speech and testing for the high schoolers as well. She was no fool, she knew a high school boy would take a middle school girl anyday, and the middle school girls would see it as status, rather than the high schooler was just desperate to get laid without having to pay for it.

Naomi sat in the back. She apologized to Charlotte but explained that she really didn't feel comfortable speaking to children about this subject. Charlotte King seemed annoyed, but just added that to the fire that was under her. Ammo, so to speak.

So sitting in the back of the darkened auditorium she had a good vantage point, and also wasn't likely to be seen by Michelle. Michelle so far had no idea she'd rung the alarm on this. And why should she? Charlotte was more than eager to take the reins. Charlotte did everything. It was almost as if Charlotte King had been waiting for this day, a day where she could finally speak up. As if she didn't every day. But, something about this, Charlotte's eagerness and need to do this? Something was up. Something was different about this. Other than the obvious fact that no other school was this open about sex and sexually transmitted diseases, until like now, it was too late.

Naomi sat there, watching and listening as the students were horrified by intentionally graphic images of the ravages of certain venariel diseases. From the shouts and gasps of horror, and the occasional "don't touch me!" cried out by a girl, presumably to her boyfriend's reassuring hand, perhaps saying 'I don't have any of that'. Or trying to reassure that you can't catch that, I'm clean. The usual garbage spewed by horny teenage boys. It was clear the kids were getting the point, along with the information that no one had bothered to tell them. That oral sex was sex. The reasons for dating. The reasons not to date. The consequences of being in a relationship. The definition of love and what love was not.

Naomi was nodding and smiling with approval as the slide show demonstrated statistics and facts for teenage pregnancy as well. Also included was a chart showing how much money you could make as an adult, then minus taxes rent and cost of a child. kids were visably shocked to see that what they thought of as a lot of money added up to being four times past their means after cost of living was subtracted.

When Charlotte showed a third degree vaginal tear from childbirth, Naomi laughed out loud. Good job, Charlotte! She praised her in her mind. Almost as good birth control as having to take care of a real baby. What a baby does to your body? As demonstrated? Genius, Charlotte King-style.

Charlotte's speech was attention grabbing, from begining to end. And Naomi was proud. She was gathering her purse, quietly, ready to exit before the mass of children did, when Charlotte opened her mouth and kept talking.

As her ears picked up Charlotte's words, Naomi's mouth dropped open, and she froze in her seat.

This was not material Charlotte'd told Naomi she'd cover, and Naomi knew she hadn't cleared it with the school board or principal either.

"I can't believe this," she hissed, staring wide eyed at a confident Dr. King now held her audience in open mouthed shock. The entire auditorium was dead silent, in a mixture of shock and disbelief.


End file.
